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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374326">Revive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/akindofmerrywar/pseuds/akindofmerrywar'>akindofmerrywar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Alphabet Game [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:42:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/akindofmerrywar/pseuds/akindofmerrywar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Perhaps the pain didn’t have to return. Perhaps Geralt could just… let go. Perhaps he could let himself rest, and forget how cold he was.</i>
</p>
<p>
Geralt gets injured. Jaskier has to bring him back from the brink.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Alphabet Game [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>265</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Revive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I challenged myself to write a fic for every letter of the alphabet. I took each letter, plugged it into a random word generator and wrote a fic based on whichever word it gave me. This letter is "R", and the word is "Revive"! See more of my Alphabet Challenge on my tumblr, <a href="https://a-kind-of-merry-war.tumblr.com/post/632799468062916608/alphabet-game-master-post">here!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was very dark, and very cold. This was unusual: Geralt was rarely cold. He could sense pain hovering outside his body like a spectre, misting over him. When it returned to him, as it always did, it would hurt like hell.</p>
<p>Perhaps it didn’t have to return. Perhaps he could just… let go. Perhaps he could let himself rest, and forget how cold he was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaskier upended the bag onto the ground, searching for the round vial full of pale grey liquid. He <em>knew </em>there was one in here, he’d seen it just a few days ago.</p>
<p><em>There</em>. He grabbed the bulb of the glass and wrenched away the cork. Without any delicacy, he prized Geralt’s mouth open and pushed the thin opening of the vial between his lips, upending it. It bubbled thickly into his mouth, and Jaskier quickly got to work stroking Geralt’s throat, willing it to work, praying that he would swallow instead of choking.</p>
<p>There was a hot pressure building behind Jaskier’s eyes, trying to burst through, but he couldn’t let it - not yet, not yet.</p>
<p>Geralt’s name burst from his lips in a hoarse cry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Oh</em>, there was the pain. It came alongside a burning in Geralt’s throat, a tart alcoholic sting. He struggled against it, trying to shrug it away, trying to force it to release him back into the darkness when- </p>
<p>
  <em>“Geralt!”</em>
</p>
<p>The agony faltered, the sound of his name breaking through it like a boot through ice. It rang in his ears for a second before vanishing, the pain rushing back to fill the void it left behind.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Geralt!”</em>
</p>
<p>Ice shattering, sudden stillness, the sudden absence of feeling that made it all the worse when it came flooding back. And yet that moment of respite was worth all the pain in the world. His head pounded, his body writhed in agony, and -</p>
<p>Geralt opened his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaskier should have felt embarrassed that he was straddling Geralt’s hips. He should have felt ashamed that his face was red and streaked with tears and snot and blood - some his, some Geralt’s. He should have pulled away the moment Geralt opened his eyes, and yet - he didn’t. </p>
<p>Geralt gasped beneath him, the reviving potion finally taking hold, and Jaskier didn’t even think about all the things that should have held him back, just laughed in disbelief, his voice cracking, and kissed him. It wasn’t until he felt Geralt’s lips playing against his own that he realised what he was doing, tumbling off of him and scrambling to his knees. Geralt groaned.</p>
<p>“Geralt,” Jaskier gasped, “You’re alright, you’re alive… <em>fuck</em>, Geralt!” He laughed again, and it hurt his chest, sending more tears spilling down his cheeks. “How do you feel? I can get help, but I don’t want to leave if…”</p>
<p>Geralt’s hand shot out, grabbing Jaskier’s wrist, and turned to look at him, his eyes red. </p>
<p>“Jask…”</p>
<p>“Shh, Geralt, don’t-”</p>
<p>“I need… cm’ere, Jaskier.”</p>
<p>Jaskier leaned closer, their faces just inches apart. “What is it?” he said, nervously. “What do you need?”</p>
<p>Geralt twisted his head sharply, and before Jaskier could react Geralt had tugged him down, crashing their lips together. It was awkward, and ungainly, and their teeth collided and there was <em>still </em>snot and tears on Jaskier’s face, but he didn’t care. It only lasted a moment before Geralt released him with an exhausted sigh.</p>
<p>Jaskier’s lips tingled. “I’ll stay,” he said, lowering himself down onto the ground next to the prone witcher and watching his chest rise and fall. “You rest.”</p>
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